Blindside
by Universitas
Summary: Trapped in the grasp of terrorists. Sequel to "All Angles." A collection of interconnected one-shots and miniseries featuring Commander Victor Shepard, his crew, and more, focusing on character interactions and arcs throughout the events of Mass Effect 2.
1. The Illusive Man - Investments

**The Illusive Man****  
><strong>**Investments**

They always saw the star first.

A deliberate design, as with everything in his office: when the quantum entanglement communication system activated and the holographic image appeared from the floor up, they were greeted with the churning surface of dying Anadius. The luminescent array of the entire visual spectrum. And of course, the vastness of space surrounding it. The speckles of stars, among which Anadius was one of many—though not for long.

They always saw the star first, but they never recognized the symbolism.

No, the weaselly scientist only gaped as the vista overtook his world. When he laid eyes on _him,_ he drew his composure together as best he could. As expected: the Illusive Man had recruited him for his brilliance. He had other operatives with personal skills.

The Illusive Man smothered his cigarette. "Doctor Silas. You're late."

"Apologies, sir." Silas brought up his omni-tool and a haptic window. "As you requested, I've sent you the latest reports from Project Machai. I'm glad we were able to recover the data from Chasca and Binthu. We've made a breakthrough on the biochemical aspects of the—"

"I trust your report is accurate. I'll peruse it after we're done. Unfortunately, it's the last you'll be sending in a long time. Send your data to Central and erase all local copies. I'm freezing Project Machai indefinitely."

Silas's sunken eyes widened, but the Illusive Man continued, "Whatever discoveries you were on the cusp of can wait. Operator Anaya Sanchez will arrive on-site within the week to take command of your team. She'll give you the details of your new project." Silas opened his mouth, but the Illusive Man continued, "Don't worry. Sanchez doesn't have your expertise, but she's a more-than-capable leader. This project will require a… greater sense of direction." _Greater than you can provide._

"I… yes, sir."

"I realize this must be difficult for you, especially after the disruptions you've suffered. But the galaxy is changing, and Cerberus's situation with it. We need to be able to adapt. Rest assured that Sanchez has equally meaningful work in store."

Silas raised his eyes, the biologist appeased. "As you say, sir."

"Good." A gesture brought up a blue window next to his hand. "I look forward to the results of your new project. Doctor."

Half-paced and deliberate, his fingertip hit the dismiss key. Silas's image faded.

Another press turned his chair around towards the vast array of haptic windows. Blinking came from one of its corners: the report. Opening it created a long display: tables, diagrams, and stills, descriptions of biochemical processes down to the genetic level, of the nanotechnology in Reaper spikes.

The Illusive Man frowned, finishing his glass of bourbon. The geth acquired those spikes from Sovereign. But almost two decades prior, another Reaper device rested in the unexplored depths of Shangxi. Entombed in a crumbling temple, did the same nanites lurk inside? And for how long? What civilization, what species, had allowed it to pervert them when they turned it into an object of worship?

Then thousands or even millions of years since that civilization's fall, the device converted Ben Hislop and Desolas Arterius into mindless, shambling monstrosities, then lashed the Illusive Man across the eyes with a burning blast of lightning….

A ping cut that train of thought short. _No time to reminisce. There's always work to be done in the now._ The Illusive Man glanced at Anadius, then thanked the operative at the door and allowed her inside.

Tap-tap-tap went the footsteps of sharp high heels behind him. "More organizational changes?"

"That's for Machai Cell to know, not you," the Illusive Man said, noting to have his office swept for listening devices again.

Operator Miranda Lawson stepped up to his side, gazing at Silas's report. "We both know the reasons behind all the changes are because of my work. Housekeeping, I take it?"

"We're about to welcome a very special guest with… different tastes from ours. Cerberus needs to be presentable when he awakens. Though it seems from your last report…"

"Only for a few seconds, despite the sedatives. Any longer and we might have lost him. I'm beginning to suspect Wilson's dedication to our success. He shouldn't be making these kinds of mistakes."

"Have him watched and keep me informed." _Lazarus is too important to take risks._ "And the recruiting efforts?"

"Successful, so far. Jeff Moreau's agreed to join us on one condition: he wants to see Shepard in person before he wakes up. Jacob's little presentation of the Lazarus Project got his attention, but he isn't convinced."

A click as the Illusive Man lit up a new cigarette. "That can be done. Tell Jacob he can bring him to the research station as soon as he's able to. We'll need to start his own treatments anyways. What's important is that we've brought one of Shepard's close friends into the fold."

"He'll be grateful for the work on his legs—and for the ship—but he won't be loyal to us."

"No, but he'll be loyal to _Shepard_."

_"A lot of terrorists think they're helping. They're not,"_ Shepard told him during the Nepheron raid. After Admiral Kahoku and the first attempt at Project Machai, the Illusive Man knew the futility of contacting Shepard then. But he did so anyways; better to be certain where the Commander stood.

Then death ripped Shepard from his entrenchment within the Alliance and the Spectres. For all the practical reasons of bringing him back to life, the Illusive Man savored the irony of Shepard's impending situation.

"What about the other potentials?"

"Jacob's on Mars right now, working on Doctor Karin Chakwas. If she accepts, she may be able to bring more ex-_Normandy_ crewmen with her. Engineer Gregory Adams, maybe."

"Kaidan Alenko?"

"A dead end. Lilium deemed him too hostile towards Cerberus."

"That's acceptable. Friction between him and Shepard might even prove desirable. Now…" He glanced aside as messages from Leng and Archer appeared in his inbox. "How would you evaluate Jacob's performance? You were spectating Moreau's recruitment."

"I was, for part of it. He was ideal for the task. Softened the blow when he revealed he wasn't exactly a Cord-Hislop representative, made Moreau more open to the possibility of working for us." Miranda chuckled. "No false identities required. He has a certain sincerity that Cerberus tends to lack."

"We'll need that sincerity to keep Shepard invested."

Miranda walked ahead towards Anadius. "All this manipulation and maneuvering wouldn't be necessary if we just installed that control chip. A simple surgical procedure would've let us put our efforts elsewhere."

"Think of the larger picture. We isolate Shepard and make him realize that we're his best chance of stopping the Reapers. Then we show everyone that he's working with us willingly, and we become more than a terrorist organization to the galaxy."

"Since when did public opinion matter to us?"

The Illusive Man allowed himself a small smile as Anadius's shifting colors cast Miranda in a silhouette. Maybe she saw how despite all the star's splendor, it was its death throes. After the tiniest slice of the universe's lifespan, it would be snuffed out, leaving only remnants adrift in the black.

The Council stood in the opaque shroud of the Serpent Nebula, convinced of their power and their invincibility even after Saren and Sovereign came close to extinguishing it. The Illusive Man sat facing Anadius and the reality it represented—and, with some arrogance, his own. "Implants," he told everyone who asked, never once suggesting an accident or a time limit. Or what came after the time limit passed.

"It doesn't," he said. "But we can't stay hidden forever."

The Cerberus of mythology, after all, did not guard the entrance to the Underworld from the shadows. _Soon. It has to be soon._


	2. Miranda Lawson - Restrained

**Miranda Lawson  
><strong>**Restrained**

Two shots dropped two more mechs, giving her a clear run. Gunfire and a scream from behind. Three more rounded the corner. She turned around, aimed. One. Two. Her pistol only beeped at the third pull of the trigger. The third mech opened fire. Her shields flared blue. As did her free hand: the first gesture lifted the mech into the air, the second smashed it into the floor.

The last mech in the hallway lay in sparking pieces, but the burning station trembled with the explosions of missiles and destroyed equipment. Miranda Lawson had to applaud Wilson for his audacity. She didn't think the simpering doctor had it in him.

"Help me, please!" someone wailed, but as muffled gunfire overtook their dying screech she raced through a door. The monitoring station had several holes in its wall of camera feeds. Even then some open windows displayed a grainy mess. Fortunately the one she came for remained: her special project, lying unconscious on an examination table.

She opened a communication line to that room. "Shepard, wake up."

* * *

><p>She opened her eyes at seven o'clock sharp. A few blinks brought the features of her bedroom through the dark and into view. The curves of the unlit light on the ceiling. The corner where the ceiling met the wall. Without a complaint or a thought for the comfort of mattress and sheet she climbed out of her bed. Selected her clothes for the day. Showered, dried, dressed.<p>

One key difference: after she zipped her red dress and put on her makeup, she pulled a long blue gown and a black trencher out of her closet, then set it aside on her bed.

Out the door, her father's servants skittered up and down the hallway like ants, scrubbing the hardwood floor, polishing the marble tabletops, shaking off the rugs. One of them, carrying a datapad, nearly tripped over a hunched back. When he recovered he spotted her, blushed, and bowed his head. "Miss Lawson."

Miranda glanced over her shoulder towards the cap and gown, then headed down to the ground floor of the Lawson mansion.

"Characteristic of Mister Garnsey to respond at the last minute." Her father, cup of coffee in one hand and open omni-tool in the other, spoke to a servant at his side of the breakfast table. "Ensure we have enough champagne for him and his wife."

"Of course, sir."

"How many are attending?" Miranda asked as the servant vanished through the doorway.

"A great deal. Various executives, government officials. They all want my good graces… and yours."

Miranda nibbled on a croissant. "They want to meet me?"

"Yes, the future CEO of Lawson Pharmaceuticals." Her father sipped his coffee, eyeing her. "I don't have to tell you how important this is."

The branded lesson came through her lips: his words, her voice. "First impressions are everything." If they saw weakness, a chance that the fabled daughter of Henry Lawson might prove more malleable, they'd pounce. "I'll make sure they don't get their hopes up."

_I'm already your shadow in every way_, she thought. _It shouldn't be hard to act it._

"Good. First things first, though, the ceremony. I suppose you're glad to be rid of all your classmates."

_All but one. _Her father had argued with himself over sending Miranda to a school rather than sticking to the private tutors. In the end he decided she needed some experience with "personal interaction." What little she got of it—at the end of every school day, the tutors were still waiting at the mansion.

"Yes," she said. "But you have a speech to make."

"The easiest part of our day."

With matters to settle in the mansion, her father sent her on ahead. Thirty minutes in the skycar brought her to the wealthy suburbs on the outskirts of the Victorian Megapolis. A brief walk took her to the grassy field beside the school auditorium. Her classmates had gathered in small circles, occupying every inch of shade. Ignoring their laughter and cheer, Miranda sat by Aaron Gainsley's statue. The sun beat down on her with no breeze to temper the heat, but that, she supposed, gave the mortarboard hat two practical uses.

The traffic on the way served one purpose: the mercy of a short wait. At the dean's call, the graduating class of 2166 lined up around the auditorium's outer wall.

_Just like rehearsal._ _A little walking and listening, then I can leave. _For a battle with the powerful at her father's mansion, she reminded herself. Her classmates were shallow and small-minded, but harmless.

"Miranda."

She turned around and frowned. "This isn't your spot in line."

"Like they'll care," Niket said with a grin.

"Miss Devine'll tear you apart if she sees you here."

"I'm giving her a present. She deserves one, after all the detention she gave me." He leaned against the wall. "Besides, this is our day."

She thought she glimpsed her father's skycar landing. Meanwhile, beneath a tall oak, a mother dropped a colorful lei around her son's neck, and several students posed together for a camera drone. "If you say so."

"You're not even a little excited? I mean, you're sixteen and you're graduating high school."

Around the corner, the layered sounds of an organ began booming through the auditorium door. The line of waving caps and swaying gowns started its procession. Miranda let herself smile. "I guess I am excited," she said, taking the first step. "To leave."

Niket chuckled. "I hear you."

This was the last time she would ever enter the auditorium, with its carved columns of stained wood, its tall walls and long windows, its perpetually clean orange carpet. The applauding, gleaming audience stood between long rows of chairs as the class of three hundred marched in single file. Her father, face set in stone, sat on the far left. For a moment their eyes met.

Just like rehearsal, Miranda took her assigned seat. _Now for the listening._

A speech from the president. A speech from the principal. And a speech from the valedictorian—a spot that Miranda could've claimed with her grades, but chose not to. Then the president returned to the podium. "Please join me in welcoming a very special guest: your keystone speaker, Mister Henry Lawson of Lawson Pharmaceuticals."

Miranda noticed the briefest of glances flicked her way as applause surged upwards. She offered slow, deliberate claps, keeping a flat face. _Do they expect me to be excited?_

Her father strutted down the side and took his spot with the same smile he used on his peers. "I suppose I can start this off saying…" He took a wide look across the audience while the sound system made his voice omnipresent in the auditorium. "'You did it.'"

This was the Henry Lawson of interviews and social functions. Miranda glanced aside at Niket and nodded at his apologetic frown.

For the next slice of eternity Miranda tried staring forward and willed time to fly by. Still, a few of her father's words cut through: "forge your own path," "take the next steps," "personal journey." By the time Henry Lawson closed his speech and left the podium, Miranda felt a sharp ache in her palms and found deep imprints of her fingernails.

Her anger had subsided once the ceremony ended and the organ sounded once more. This time, the temptation to break the practiced procession pace was almost too strong.

On the bright side, Miranda and Niket found empty shade outside. "So, what're you up to after this?" Niket asked.

"My father's throwing a party. For himself, really. I'll be spending the evening with all his corporate and political friends."

"Yikes. Real bunch of ball-twisters."

"If that's all they are, then I have no reason to be afraid of them."

"Guess not." Laughing, Niket spied something over her shoulder. "Looks like my family's waiting for me. Take care in the shark tank, okay?"

"Don't worry about me."

Niket walked past her, patting her on the shoulder. Miranda turned around, trying not to look at the waving couple. "Niket," she said.

He stopped. "Yeah?"

_He acts so casually_. The prep had practically begged Miranda's father to let her attend. Niket had to fight for every scrap of financial aid, to do all those things to secure his acceptance letter. His cap and gown looked garish and baggy on his stocky body and plain face, but he deserved them. This day wasn't hers, but it was his.

Miranda smiled. "Congratulations."

Niket replied with an even wider one. "You too," then walked away.

The moment his back was facing her, she went in the other direction, towards her father's skycar. Graduation was a battle, but the real one waited for her at the Lawson mansion.

* * *

><p>An army of mechs later, the blue blips entering the shuttle bay on her map mirrored the sudden outburst of gunfire.<p>

There had been others since she arrived. They didn't last. Miranda could've dispatched the security mechs herself, but better to keep them around as one last combat test. If her subject couldn't handle a few more LOKI mechs, then the Lazarus Project had failed. But the blue dots overtook the red, and muffled, heavy footsteps came into hearing. Miranda approached the door to her landing pad.

The lock disengaged and Wilson stood on the other side. _The last thing you did right._

"Miranda," he said. "But you're—"

Miranda Lawson pulled the trigger, then faced down Commander Shepard's pistol until her explanation proved sufficient. That was the start of the real battle. Killing Wilson was simplicity's last hurrah.


	3. Jeff Moreau - A Few Small Repairs

**Jeff Moreau  
><strong>**A Few Small Repairs**

"You have a _fish tank?_"

"You say it like I had a choice."

The illuminated tank cast a blue glow over a good quarter of the new _Normandy's_ "penthouse apartment." Little synthetic corals lay on the synthetic sand, but bubbles were the only moving things inside. Joker wouldn't have been surprised if they, too, were fake. _Cerberus brought a man back from the dead, why not?_

That formerly dead man was kneeling by the full-sized bed, yanking wiring out from between the deck panels. "Everywhere I go on this ship, I just see big wastes of money. This cabin, the wide corridors…" Shepard flashed him a smile, "leather chairs…"

"_Not_ a waste."

"And all this surveillance equipment." Joker spied a few by Shepard's feet. "There's a clear line between reasonable security and Big Brother in Space."

He wondered why Shepard had asked for his help bugsweeping rather than Mordin or Garrus or Kasumi, but it was a chance to talk to him in semi-privacy. "Semi," to his great misfortune, because the AI was always watching.

"How much of the cabin have you covered?"

"Just this end. Could you get the desk and the head?"

"You have your own bathroom?"

"Like I said…" The wires stopped coming. Shepard held his omni-tool to the taut root. After scanning the readout, he brought up an omni-blade and started cutting into the floor around it. "Big wastes of money everywhere."

_Everywhere but my chair_, Joker thought, _and right in front of me._ And that credit sink was probably the biggest one. "Right. So. Bug sweeping. How do I do it?"

"Power down everything in sight and check for emissions that shouldn't be there. Magnetic, electrical, and thermal are the usual ones."

"Got it. You know, I thought you said weren't a spy."

Shepard shrugged. "I was going to be at one point. An Alliance captain had me slated for Special Intelligence before Whitwell got me into the N program. Even after that, I got some training."

A model of the old _Normandy_ sat in the glass case by the desk, its silver hull catching the light above it. The SR-2 lay in its shadow, a display of symbolism in toy ships._ "Shinier, stronger, but a still just a copy,"_ Shepard told him before hitting Omega. Up until then, Joker had relished flying the new girl, even for the routine relay hop from Novae to Sahrabarik. The ship itself felt different—larger and more powerful on the upside, the AI's nagging on the downside—but the instruments, the cockpit, the impossible mission, even Shepard sneaking up on him in the cockpit…

_"It's good to be home, huh, Commander?"_ The question sounded so stupid in hindsight. _Shinier, stronger, but a still just a copy._

Flipped switches and pressed buttons put the whole cabin, model ships included, in darkness. Joker opened up his omni-tool's flashlight and scanning equipment. Secret agent work was easier than it seemed. The camera he found in the back corner of the office section and the microphone underneath the desk were only small blips of electrical noise, but piloting taught him never to discount anything on the read-outs. "Might want to check your computer, too. Probably loaded with Cerberus who-knows-what."

"Noted," Shepard said over the sound of moving metal.

The bathroom had just one camera, thankfully pointed towards the sink rather than the shower. Joker cut it out from behind the wall and dumped it in the sink. "Guess Cerberus likes watching you brush your teeth."

"Not shower?"

"No, that kind of voyeurism would be too normal for them. Or someone has a toothpaste fetish. Take your pick. Anyway, think I got 'em all."

"Thanks." Beyond the glass case Shepard set aside a bundle of cables then made his way to the small stairs. "I'll ask Mordin to make sure we didn't miss anything."

"You know he'd probably just add more bugs?"

Shepard turned the corner towards his desk as the lights came back on. "You're trusting." His voice trailed off as he dropped his gaze and flipped open his computer. "Speaking of which, I've been meaning to ask."

Joker stepped out of the bathroom, hand on the door. "Shoot." The way Shepard kept his back to him, eyes still on the computer, made him all too aware of the dread knotting up in his gut. _Trusting. He's gonna ask me about why…_

Shepard turned around. "Why join Cerberus?"

_Knew it_. Probably why Shepard asked him up in the first place.

"After what they did to Admiral Kahoku, that colony on Chasca, all those marines in the Styx Theta cluster." He had that look in his eyes Joker thought was reserved for the Council or derelict stations past the viewport. Now they were on him.

"Don't get me wrong," Shepard said. "When I first saw you on that Cerberus station, that was… a nice bright spot. A familiar face. A good friend."

Joker's stomach twisted. He was "a good friend" even after Alchera.

"I'm glad you're here, but I can't understand _why_ you're here. Am I making sense?"

_Because Cerberus hit the big undo button on the biggest screw-up of my life?_ During that first meeting in the Orbital Club, Jacob showed him data on the Reapers. Cerberus believed in the threat they posed, he said, and was better equipped and more willing to deal with it than the Council and the Alliance. They needed a pilot, the best one, the one who'd worked with Commander Shepard.

But when the talk moved to Joker's apartment, it was Jacob's trump card, the Lazarus Project, that got him. Pictures of the reconstruction process, a live feed of Shepard's body—a recognizable, _breathing_ human body, not a charred hump—on an operating table. Once he saw it in person, almost daring to touch it, he couldn't go back to the Alliance.

"Get stuck in a rut long enough, when someone offers a way out, you're probably gonna take it. Even if that someone's an ugly serial killer with kitten intestines in his mouth. Yeah, I know, it sounds like Cerberus did this heart string-tugging manipulation act on me. They probably did. But it's not like they lied about bringing you back, right?"

"Did they?" Shepard pushed himself off the desk and stepped into the bathroom. "Sometimes I wonder." When Joker stepped over, Shepard had his back to him again, arms folded. "One moment I'm…" a deep breath, "dying, the next I'm waking up on an operating ta—"

Shepard's omni-tool flared to life with an accompanying window. "Weird," he said, holding it to the shower wall. "I'm picking up electrical noise here. A lot more than the other bugs put out." He turned around and looked at Joker, eyebrow raised.

"Wasn't there when I checked. Maybe it turns on when you're standing in front of it?"

Shepard furrowed his brow as his omni-blade sprang out. When the cutting was done, he set the panel aside. Bolted to the wall was a tall, T-shaped device that had lines of red light running down its length.

"The hell is that?" Joker asked, entering the bathroom.

"EDI, what did the Illusive Man have installed in the shower?"

A beep from outside. "Shepard, I do not recommend removing that equipment. It is designed to run diagnostic scans on your cybernetic implants and send them Operator Lawson, who then ensures that they are at optimal operating capacity."

Shepard stroked his chin. "Miranda's done enough for my guts. I'm taking it out, but I'll reconfigure it to send that info to Doctor Chakwas instead. _When I tell it to_."

"Very well, Commander."

Joker watched him disconnect cable by cable and remove bolt by bolt, watched him rip the contraption off the wall and set it aside, watched his hand linger on the crossbar with a white-knuckled death grip. "This is what I'm talking about," Shepard said. "I was dead. To think that an expensive science project put everything that I was back together, it just seems too easy."

"You're still the Shepard I remember."

"With extra parts on the inside that Cerberus wants to check up on when I shower. And these," Shepard's thumb brushed one of the faint orange lines on his face, "instead of all my old scars."

The same personality, Joker thought, wrapped up in a shinier, stronger package. _But still just a copy_ in Shepard's mind, a copy without the history. Joker found himself thinking of the work Cerberus had done on his own body, all the state-of-the-art intramedullary rods that let him put away his crutches.

Meanwhile, Shepard stared into the mirror, appraising the body Cerberus had given him. _It's good to be home, huh, Commander?_

Shepard stepped back from the sink and sighed. "You know, when I was a kid I wanted bionic arms to punch bad guys and save orphans."

"When I was a kid I just wanted normal arms."

"Point taken."

"Hell, I wanted a normal everything." He spent a good part of his childhood watching big bulky marines board starships for destinations unknown, thinking that he belonged aboard with them but his body wasn't good enough for it, that his ambitions were reasonable for anyone but him. That his body didn't fit him. Shepard was probably more capable than ever, but still he faced the same feeling. "But everything _wasn't_ normal. You remember the Ursa shuttle I have on my shoulder?"

"What about?"

"First thing I got to pilot out of flight school. Kinda like my Skyllian Blitz. People get tattoos for important things—that's… normal."

"I had tattoos, when I was teenager. Gang symbols, like the number ten in big red letters on my chest. I got them removed when I enlisted, never had another. You know what I think of my gang years."

"I'm not saying you get a tattoo."

Shepard rubbed his shoulder. "I had a scar here where a sniper shot grazed me. From Elysium. It's a blank slate now." He lowered his gaze, "blank slate… Thanks."

"Hey, don't go pulling Garruses now."

"How else will I attract those krogan women?" Shepard turned to the discarded scanning thing. "I shouldn't keep you here any longer. And I have this piece of Cerberus tech to work on."

"Miranda might miss getting your daily nudes."

"I'm sure she's seen enough of me," Shepard said with a slight frown.

After a moment, Joker had to look away and will away the not unwelcome mental images. "Right. Well, have fun with that. Maybe Gardner's awful cooking will distract me from the fact that someone else is sitting in my chair."

Shepard knelt down and held his omni-tool to the scanner. "You had Junior Helmsman Pakti on the old _Normandy_."

"Yeah, but my seat back then wasn't real leather."


	4. Kaidan Alenko - Spectres

**Kaidan Alenko  
><strong>**Spectres**

_Meet me on the Citadel, my office. Council business. I'll say more in person._

The last time Anderson sent such a message, Staff Commander Kaidan Alenko found himself and his squad in a different kind of hell from Virmire—perhaps even worse. Back then he'd committed himself to protecting that bomb to the last second, to watching the _Normandy_ fly off with Ashley Williams aboard before the world went white. Even though Shepard decided otherwise, in staying behind would've been Kaidan's choice.

On Horizon he watched Lieutenants Lamar and Kuwatani get tossed like trash into grotesque cocoons. He could only wait his turn, wide-eyed and helpless, in the shadow of a ship that forced him to watch other friends die two years ago. But then the Collectors retreated and their gargantuan vessel blasted off. And one of those friends, like a phantom, was right there in front of him.

Anderson told him about the rumors of Commander Shepard's return—a man of the same size and build wearing his armor and his face, shaking up all the criminal powers in the Terminus Systems. Kaidan dismissed them as some idiot's sick joke, or some vigilante's scare act, until Horizon.

_"Cerberus didn't leave me much choice,"_ the apparent impostor said. _"I don't like working for them just as much as you don't like the idea of it." _Yet Shepard had up-ended the Traverse searching for Saren. Defying the Council and breaking the _Normandy's_ lockdown was the shining moment that saved the galaxy.

_Cerberus is the one thing you can't escape? _Kaidan thought.

Councilor Anderson was stone-faced from across his uncluttered desk. "I'll be upfront. This is about Shepard again—whether indirectly or directly, I'm not sure. Do you know former Rear Admiral Anna Whitwell?"

"Shepard's old CO? She sent the _Normandy_ to Terra Nova to stop the batarian terrorist attack." The mission seemed like a lifetime ago. "I wasn't aware she left the Alliance."

"It was a quiet resignation, just after the _Normandy_ went down and all the white-washing spectacles that followed. She called the geth hunt that led to Shepard's death a… 'tragic waste.' Officially she returned to Earth for her retirement."

"And unofficially? Is she's acting up?"

"That's right. Intel's being leaked, classified tech's being stolen. The Alliance has evidence suggesting Whitwell is involved."

"Around the same time Shepard comes back. You think they're connected?"

"Shepard considered Whitwell one of his mentors. Both of them drawing suspicion? It's a coincidence we can't ignore. That's why I need you to investigate Anna Whitwell's activities."

_And I can't escape Shepard's shadow, _Kaidan thought. "Ready and able, sir."

"This would normally be a solo op. Mobilizing your squad would draw too much attention from Cerberus spies, and Whitwell might have her own contacts within the Alliance, too. But it's not just an Alliance problem anymore."

"The former admiral pulled her most recent heist on an STG facility," a voice said over the sound of the sliding door. A tall salarian, clad in black and yellow armor, regarded Kaidan with narrowed eyes before dipping his head. "Operative Jondum Bau, Citadel Special Tactics and Reconnaissance."

* * *

><p>"You're sure they'll take the bait?" Kaidan asked.<p>

"Given their previous work, I think this bait is too good to pass up."

Bau led Kaidan down the main corridor of a salarian research facility on the Citadel. Blank white walls dotted with featureless doors ran down both his sides. Two STG agents trailed him at a respectful distance, the opaque visors of their black helmets pointed in ever-changing directions.

"A prototype cyberwarfare suite."

"The thieves have only taken STG tech so far. No conventional weapons. I may have exaggerated the capabilities of our prototype in the intel I leaked, but as far as they're concerned, it's the big prize."

"Is it actually here?"

"Yes and no. The version they'd be stealing has a critical bug that causes the entire system to crash."

Kaidan let out a small chuckle as Bau ushered him into an elevator at the end of the corridor. Two salarian researchers conversed inside, but their conversation died when they saw the human. They stepped off at the next floor down. Not because of him, he was sure, but he remained aware of his other-ness.

_Did Ash feel like this on Virmire?_ Or was she so in her element—a raging battlefield with the thunder of a thousand slugs in her ears and just as many targets for her rifle—that it didn't matter?

Kaidan, meanwhile, had entered a world where secrets made for bulletproof walls. And just like Horizon, politics had a hand in this special assignment. Councilor Anderson had him working with a Spectre, a situation that reminded Kaidan too much of Nihlus Kryik and Commander Shepard. _No Saren this time, but I guess Cerberus keeps proving what disgruntled humans can do._

The elevator opened on the fourth basement level. "Assuming that the thieves are logical people," Bau said, starting down another blank corridor, "they'll make their move when security is lowest. My leaked intel suggests they'll have a small window to get in and steal the prototype." Bau stopped at a door and pressed his omni-tool to its lock.

"And if they're logical…" Kaidan entered the dimly lit lab, a space of several workstations centered on a large circular table. "They won't come barging in through the front."

"Ventilation shafts. I've deliberately left those under minimal guard. And one conveniently drops into this laboratory."

Kaidan followed Bau's pointing finger to a square panel on the ceiling. "Got it. Any others?"

"None. You deal with thieves by forcing them into predictable moves."

"You have experience."

Bau smiled. "Indeed. Only one thief in the galaxy has ever defied my predictions, and these ones aren't her."

"And they don't know I'm here?"

"They have access to our security feeds through a very well-crafted program. I let it stay in our systems so I could feed them a sequence of various old footage."

"Spectre Bau?" one of the STG agents asked. "The thieves' window of opportunity starts in one minute."

"I know."

"All right." Kaidan rounded a work station halfway across the lab. "I'll stay out of sight until our thief shows up. They won't be expecting me."

"Especially you," Bau said, nodding. His omni-tool flared to life with a small message window. Bau's green-black eyes narrowed as he read it. "They're starting early. Security's detecting a hack attempt in the primary server room."

"But the prototype's here. A diversion?"

"Most likely." Bau made for the exit. "I'll investigate. Be prepared."

Kaidan turned towards the STG agents as the door hissed closed. Bau made it clear that the command was his in the Spectre's absence. "Find cover. When the thief comes down from the shaft, I want you two to jump first. One by one. I'll lock them in a stasis field once you have their attention."

"Understood, Commander." The two withdrew to opposite corners of the lab.

Kaidan crouched behind the workstation, keeping it between him and the thief's entrance. Uneasy silence took over the room, the false calm before a battle that paralyzed untested marines. _This isn't a battle_, he told himself, _just a thief and a mystery._ Then why did it feel like one?

That silence remained for several long minutes. Kaidan kept his pistol at the ready and his free hand prepared to sign.

Then what little light illuminated the lab flickered and faded. Red dots lit up on the floor. _Security lockdown. Bau or the thief?_

The grating of metal boomed in his ear. Thuds of a landing followed. Kaidan dared to poke his head out from behind the desk.

One of the salarians rolled out of cover, pistol pointed at a silhouette approaching the center table. The thief flung their hands up, but the emergency lights caught the underside of a small object closing the gap to the salarian. _Get down_, Kaidan wanted to say.

The salarian rolled again. A crack of red lightning burst from where he stood. The other agent crept up behind the thief, only for their fist to meet his visor. Something flashed in their other hand—a talon. Kaidan jolted up to his feet, dark energy flaring around him. He signed the mnemonic. The mass effect field flew and struck.

The talon was frozen just in front of the agent's face. Kaidan's stasis field held both the thief and the salarian in a pulsing blue corona. He exhaled, then brought up his comlink. "Alenko to Bau. We have the target."

"Good work. Lifting the emergency lockdown now. I'll have security sweep the station for any more intruders. Be there shortly. Bau out."

Seconds later the lights came back on, revealing a helmeted woman in black armor. The first STG agent approached with shackles, and once Kaidan lifted the field—prompting a grunt from the thief—wrangled her arms behind her back and bound her.

"You," the thief said, visor pointed at Kaidan, "you were one of Shepard's."

Frowning, Kaidan undid her helmet seals and lifted it off the thief's head. "I remember you. From the asteroid."

Elizabeth Yin turned her gaze to the floor and laughed. "Small galaxy."


	5. Thane Krios - Sins Upon Sins

**Thane Krios  
><strong>**Sins Upon Sins**

Two targets marked themselves with their own photoreceptors. One shot each took their shields. One shot each took their heads. Motion at the edge of the scope: a sliding door and three new hostiles. He let the orange drone guide his crosshairs. Six shots, two each.

A crash filtered into Thane Krios's helmet as the enemy frontline crumbled. His new allies scanned the darkened room for many long, quiet seconds before the comm feed came to life once more.

"We're clear," the turian, Garrus, said.

Thane felt the tiniest ping of amusement as he stowed his sniper rifle. On Illium he had witnessed the chaos Commander Shepard sewed. Here Thane was on the _Alarei_, participating in it.

The man himself took a step forward, checking the quarian ship's schematics on his omni-tool. "Tali and Garrus, you're here on Deck 2 with me. Kasumi and Thane, you're up on Deck 1. Take the stairs behind us. Radio in if you find any sign of Tali's father."

"Got it," the human thief said.

Thane watched Kasumi vanish into her stealth cloak, then followed Shepard's directions up. Her blue dot on his HUD maintained a few paces' distance.

"Shepard, this isn't the best time, but the cloak I gave you…" Tali said behind him. "What happened to it?"

"Lost with my old hardsuit. This one's Cerberus tech." A small measure of distaste tinged Shepard's voice.

Tali's quiet "oh" was the last Thane caught before he closed the stairwell's top door.

Only a corridor, a single active light, and several crew quarters greeted their arrival. A handful of quarian bodies lay sprawled out inside each.

"We should identify them," Thane said.

"On it."

Kasumi's icon moved into one room. Thane entered the other. Shards of what looked like tinted glass littered the floor alongside the bodies, but Thane didn't peer past the smashed masks. _A privilege only for their own people._

"So," Kasumi said, "interesting job, huh?"

"Hm?"

"A suicide mission against a mysterious alien race, a rag-tag band and a terrorist organization fighting against the odds…"

No weapons, Thane noted, unless the geth had seized them. Still, these quarians were mere researchers. A single shot of a geth rifle was all that it took. _Efficient._

"This discussion is appropriate at this time?" he asked.

"Why not? No geth, and your line of work has its similarities to mine. Plus, you're the new guy on the ship. Color me curious."

He knelt and opened his omni-tool, then linked it to what was left of the quarians' suit systems. "Jora'Hazt vas Yanthest" and "Shila'Kai vas Antros," the IDs read. Thane commended them to Kalihira and then moved on.

"I don't think anyone ever expects to join a suicide mission," he said. "Especially those accustomed to working alone."

A unsent transmission sat on a console screen as a body lay by its feet. Thane hit "play." _"Be strong for Daddy, Jonah."_ A woman's horrified whispers crackled through the speakers._ "Mommy loves you very—"_ An explosion and gunfire cut her off.

_A last message to her child._ Thane had poured over one regarding his own in the past few days.

When he finished his side of the quarters, Kasumi was waiting for him in the hallway. "I know that feeling. This whole 'squad' thing takes getting used to."

"Is this truly a squad? The word suggests a certain cohesion, a joining of the right individuals for each other, not necessarily the best."

"I like to think the Illusive Man's watched one too many old vids."

Thane frowned, following her into a small mess hall. "Shepard didn't choose us?"

"Nope. The way I heard it, the Illusive Man handed him a list with our names on it and sent him on his merry way."

"So Shepard isn't…"

"I'd say it's a little complicated."

_An Alliance hero commanding a Cerberus mission. _Thane never accepted jobs that took him into human politics, but by simple reputation that notion exuded complexity in droves. _And of course, the crew._ The Cerberus agents, the master thief, the unstable biotic, the veteran mercenary, the tank-bred krogan, the salarian scientist, the turian vigilante, the quarian machinist, the asari justicar… and then Thane himself. In battle, he made himself a weapon for Shepard to wield. But joining this mission, this final job, was _his _choice.

"I didn't scare you with this Cerberus talk, did I?"

"No."

"Hm. Guess I didn't need to worry."

"I agreed to work for Shepard. That's all that matters."

"Good attitude."

Thane checked the deck's layout as they passed through a doorway. "There's a back-up server room nearby. It could've been—"

Reflex and instinct jerked his body right. A sudden burst of rifle fire ripped through the air. He retreated past the door to the mess hall and unclipped his sniper rifle.

"Big one," Kasumi said.

Thane peeked around the corner. The geth's head almost touched the ceiling, with bulky armor and an oversized weapon to match. _Heavy shielding_, he noted. _Armor concentrated around the upper half. Weaker around the ankles._

"I'll keep it distracted," Thane said. "Take it off its feet."

The first shot made ripples in the target's shield as the large geth advanced from the opposite end of the hallway. A rapid fire storm came his way in response. Several more shots put the thermal clip at capacity. But with the small device now attached to the geth's ankle, he didn't need to eject.

The grenade's explosion sent it toppling sideways. Its impact left a dent in the bulkhead. Kasumi appeared beside it, waving her omni-tool. The geth reached out as its shields vanished.

He emerged from cover at the five shots and the thud. "Well done."

"This?" Kasumi tucked her handgun away. "Child's play."

"I suppose this one's presence," he motioned to the dead geth, "might confirm my suspicions."

"Let's see." Kasumi approached the door to the data room and broke the lock.

_Playing the distraction. Another novelty._

Data storage equipment and access consoles awaited inside, as well as one more quarian body. Thane knelt beside it, identified it, stared at the name that appeared on the screen. He opened a comm channel. "Shepard."

* * *

><p>Admiral Rael'Zorah spent his last moments with his daughter in his thoughts—as well as the promise he made to her. "A house on a homeworld," he said, and the <em>Alarei <em>showed he did whatever he thought it would take.

_He looks up at me. Eyes pleading. "Please?" "When I return," I say. The next words come easily—too easily. "I promise."_

Thane blinked. The _Normandy_'s engineering deck replaced the old apartment. Frowning, he remembered the short message in his inbox. _He walks a dangerous path because of me._

The door opened. "Tali," he said.

She stared at a datapad as she paced around an otherwise empty space.

Thane kept a respectful distance, hands behind his back. "I wanted to offer my condolences, but if you'd prefer solitude…"

A moment passed while Tali glanced aside. "It's all right. With EDI, we're never truly alone on this ship anyways. But thank you." She set the datapad on a station, keeping her visor pointed at a wall. "At the very least, my father's name is safe. My people won't remember him as a monster."

"And you remain a member of the Migrant Fleet. Both of you got what you wanted in the end."

"Yes… that's true. I almost forgot how persuasive Shepard can be."

"Have you known him long?"

"Two years ago, he saved my life. I repaid him by helping him defeat Saren. He helped me complete my Pilgrimage, too—the quarian rite of passage."

Thane nodded. "Your father must have been proud."

"I wouldn't know."

"You never spoke with him about it?"

"He was always distant. Maybe he expected as much of me."

"Or perhaps he was too busy with his work." With his promise. _The words come too easily. "I promise."_

"The lengths he went to…"

"Regardless of what your father did, he added a great deal of good to galaxy." Thane wanted to believe he'd done so as well, but that message made him doubt. _Not his fault. Mine._

She turned towards the drive core. Thane followed as the low drone enveloped the space around them.

"Do you have a family?" Tali asked.

"I did. A wife and child."

"Oh. I shouldn't have…"

"My wife returned to the sea many years ago. My son…" _Disconnected,_ unless Thane acted soon. But Tali did not need his personal concerns imposed over her grief. "I apologize. Another time, perhaps. I will keep your father in my prayers."

"Thank you. I have to admit, when I heard Shepard was bringing an assassin aboard the ship, you weren't the kind I was expecting."

Thane offered a slight smile as he turned and departed. "You are not the first to tell me that."

Rael'Zorah was a distant parent, but still gave up everything, even his reputation, for family. Though his methods proved monstrous, Tali followed the principle of his example. Thane could not say the same of his own distance, his own work, or his own legacy. His own _sins_. Kolyat deserved a better path.

And Thane did not want to begin his own path—a path to atonement—alone. When he returned to the life support room, he took his seat, opened his omni-tool, and began a new message:

_Shepard: I would like to discuss a private matter with you. Whenever you have the time._


	6. Garrus Vakarian - Paladins

**Garrus Vakarian  
><strong>**Paladins**

One shot. Working on the _Normandy_'s guns during the quiet hours or stepping over merc corpses after a shootout, he imagined holding the sniper rifle. He imagined training the reticle. And more times than he could count, he imagined twitching his finger, signal to nerve to muscle to movement. How would the corpse hit the floor?

Even as the skycar lifted away from the lot, part of him still believed he took the shot. But all Garrus Vakarian had to do was look aside.

Shepard sat in the passenger seat, dressed in human civvies save for the handgun in a belt holster. He kept that focused expression on since they arrived at the Orbital Club, but from what Garrus could discern from human faces, a hint of unease had crept into Shepard's eyes. Garrus almost said something there. Instead he focused his gaze forward on the Citadel's cityscape. After Sidonis, he'd had enough of words.

Silvery blurs and faded lights of all shapes shifted around and below the skycar. The ERC Building retained its dagger-like shape for the instant it lay outside the window. Then came the Elyssian Tower and Warehouse 211-A. Old buildings brought back old cases. Clear-cut crimes, clear-cut criminals. Either they'd take the shackles or pull out a gun and take a bullet—simpler times.

The slug would've hit just between the fringe and the left mandible. The body would've staggered, then buckled at the knees before falling on its side. But then what? Someone would contact C-Sec, they'd follow the murder right into a dead end of red tape. Personal experience told him as much.

_"I still see their faces,"_ Sidonis said, head right in the cross-hairs.

"Thanks."

Garrus glanced at Shepard. Their eyes didn't meet. "For what?" he asked.

"For sparing him. It wasn't—"

"It wasn't easy, but it was the right thing to do, I know. That's what I've been telling myself."

_Vortash threw his arms out and spun around in the Blue Suns outpost they just captured. Thanks to Sidonis, the Suns repaid him with dozens of slugs from head to toe._

"But you don't believe it?"

He looked away. "Not entirely."

"Why?"

"When I met him, he'd led the Blood Pack to a merchant who couldn't pay the protection fee. You know what he said after I took out the mercs? 'I don't want to do this anymore. But it's all I'm good for.' So I let him play snitch for us—tell us what the merc gangs were doing, where they were going."

_Butler__set up a holo of his son and daughter in his corner of the hideout. When Garrus returned after escaping the Suns' trap, the first thing he saw was smoke and fire consuming both image and man. Melenis was huddled on the floor, already dead. Erash joined her not long after—sniper shot to the head._

The skycar dipped out of the lane and entered a tunnel. "'I don't want to do this anymore.' Turns out he was lying," Garrus said. "He's on his third chance now, not his second." Garrus said.

"Not much of a third chance if he's spending it in prison."

"It's more than he deserves."

_Garrus and Sensat poured three thermal clips' worth into an YMIR's shields while Ripper squirmed and screamed in its grip. It fell, but not before a loud crunch silenced Ripper and a machine gun volley tore Sensat apart._

Shepard sighed. "Remember the 'old friend' I met here two years back? From my old gang?"

"You killed him in front of a crowd of witnesses at Chora's Den. C-Sec wasn't happy."

"His name was Finch. At one point, he actually was a friend."

"What happened?"

"We joined the Reds at the same time. Looked out for each other. Apparently, when our leader sent someone to kill me for running away, Finch tried talking him down."

"The gang went after you?" On the old _Normandy_, Joker got Shepard to tell the why and how of his enlistment. "You didn't say that before."

"Didn't think I needed to share it. Then at some point, the Reds went from street gang to human extremists. Guess Finch changed with them. He tried blackmailing me so I'd get a Red out of turian prison."

"And you killed him for it?"

"I did."

So onlookers stared as Shepard pulled the trigger—one cold shot from a pistol, as Garrus pictured it. Fist died the same way, not too far from that spot. But at the Orbital Club… _"He's already paid for it. Ten times over."_

"So Finch and all those others you killed. Why them and not Sidonis? Or even Saleon?"

_Grundan Krul dragged Mierin's body out of the line of fire. A whole squad of Suns closed in on him. The krogan matched their gunfire in volume and potency, but in the end two Suns were left standing. Monteague and Weaver's death rattles sounded in Garrus's helmet, leaving him alone against an army._

"Because I'd be pulling the trigger?" Garrus asked. "Is that it?"

Shepard fell silent while Garrus landed the skycar. As the doors swung open, the white noise of the docking bays replaced the low hum of the drive.

Garrus stepped out first. "Let's talk later."

"We will."

"Commander Shepard!"

Shepard looked at the waving figure. "Miss Wong?" he asked. "This might take a while." With that he jogged into the Citadel crowds.

"A lot of good people helped solve this case." The familiar voice came from behind, filtered through electronic static. Garrus turned around. On a display screen, Chellick held himself at a military ready as he spoke to a reporter. "Some of them aren't with C-Sec anymore, but I have to thank them for their contributions regardless."

The reporter, a human woman, turned towards the camera and smiled. "There you have it, from the words of the Vice-Executor himself. Back you, Naryala."

The screen cut to an asari at a news desk. An image of a volus was behind her, with "Tovar Bol Convicted" stretched across it in big letters.

Another cut brought Councilor Sparatus himself on. "Let it be known that I in no way approve of these appalling activities. As a member of the Citadel Council, I swear I'll do everything in my power to ensure that Tovar Bol remains in prison for what he's done, and that reparations are made to his victims' families. His replacement will undergo significant background checks, as will the rest of my advisers. This will not happen again."

C-Sec did it. The judiciary did it. This was the exception to the rule, no doubt, but Garrus's cases too often followed the latter rather than the former. Still, he welcomed the tinge of relief. Things had gone right.

"Well," Shepard said, stepping up beside him, "that actually didn't take long at all." He glanced at the news feed. "What's this?"

"One of my last cases at C-Sec. Tovar Bol was funding Saleon's labs, getting rich off the black market organ trade. I tried exposing him. Chellick blocked me." _"One Councilor Sparatus's chief advisers," "key to the economic recovery of the Citadel," "other problems could use your skills…"_

"Chellick? You mean the detective who had a civilian informant at Chora's Den?"

"He became Vice-Executor after Saren's attack. That changed him."

"This is why you left? Went to Omega?"

"Yeah," Garrus said. "More or less. There were other cases, still ran into the same red tape. Guess I have a habit of picking the hard ones."

"This one turned out all right in the end."

Tovar Bol's image swapped for another story. Garrus followed Shepard to the _Normandy_'s bay. "Took them two years, but… yeah."

Sidonis said he'd turn himself in, that he'd find some way to repay Garrus's mercy. Maybe the third chance was the one that stuck.

As the docking arm swept around and over them, Shepard glanced over his shoulder. "You were right, by the way. About it being you pulling the trigger."

"Why?"

"This whole thing, with Harkin, the Blue Suns, Sidonis… You're better than this." He stopped just at the airlock even as it slid open. "More than that though, I need better people than _me_ on this ship."

_More jumped over the barricade. Two humans, a woman disdainful of her surroundings and an older man with a near-ruin of a scarred face. A figure in black armor joined them. Garrus zoomed his scope in and dared to hope when he saw the human characters and red shape emblazoned on the chest._

Shepard gave the new _Normandy_ a long stare. "This Cerberus ship."


	7. Kaidan Alenko - Pieces on the Board

**Kaidan Alenko  
><strong>**Pieces on the Board**

_This is going nowhere._

One bright white light cast the angular blocky shadow of an interrogation rack. Spectre Jondum Bau circled it like a predator from the darkness of the tiny room's edges. The view seemed something like a scene from a vid, the kind Jenkins went on and on about in a past life. At least Kaidan _had_ a view. Yin, shackled to the rack and no doubt near-blinded by that light, kept her eyes focused on where the wall met the ceiling.

Shepard never resorted to this. _He either won them over with kindness or had them stammering with a gun to their heads._

"Answer the question," Bau said.

"I should've expected the Alliance to show up. We're a Council race now. Too bad our Councilor's done nothing for us."

"I said, answer the question. We know you work for former Alliance Rear Admiral Anna Whitwell. She was always a known potential troublemaker. Is she planning to use STG technology against the Batarian Hegemony? It seems the logical conclusion, given her rhetoric."

For that Yin fell silent. Kaidan and Bau exchanged a glance.

"Are you with Cerberus?" Kaidan asked.

Yin scoffed. "I know about the colony on Chasca and Admiral Kahoku. A pro-human group who experiments on and murders humans isn't pro-human at all, just crazy. I guess that makes the Alliance crazy, too, huh?" Her lips curled into a bitter smile as she turned her gaze to Kaidan. "They let Shepard die in some backwater star system hunting phantom threats. Doesn't that count as murdering him? And you were in the Terminus Systems recently, chasing a myth for them. What if you died there, too?"

Shepard agreed to eliminate the geth holdouts because it might've led to something useful, even if the Council and the Alliance were throwing him under the rug. _She doesn't think the Collectors are real, or the Reapers._ He wanted to throw her words back at her. Virmire and Alchera and Horizon—those losses meant something.

"The Horizon operation was classified information," Bau said.

Yin shrugged. "I keep up on current events."

Bau stopped his pacing and opened up his omni-tool. "Come in and return the prisoner to her cell. We're done."

At Bau's gesture, Kaidan followed him past the two entering guards. Tomorrow, if the routine stuck, Bau and Kaidan and Yin would return to their spots. Bau would try a new angle with his questions, and Yin would reply with the same nothings.

"This isn't working," Kaidan said.

"I know."

"Then why…"

Elevator doors opened before and closed behind them. "Why continue these ineffective methods?" Bau asked. "To establish a pattern. Patterns are meant to be exploited or broken, and we're going for the latter. I've sent a data package to you. Look at its contents before tomorrow."

"What is it?"

Bau smiled. "You'll see."

* * *

><p>There were two security cameras, one inside the cell and one outside. Both had cylinders that jutted from the ceiling, but those were only decoration. The actual cameras were nigh-indistinguishable from the metal panels. The STG invested a whole lot into deception—more than Kaidan thought.<p>

At the very end of the cell block, past a rippling mass effect field, Yin sat cross-legged on the floor. "So," she said, staring at the corner of her cell. "It's your turn now?"

Kaidan glanced at the two salarian agents at his side, then nodded. "Just a few questions."

"What, does the Spectre think I'll talk to you just because you're human? Or because you served under Shepard? How long did that last, anyways? A few months before the Council got him killed?"

"I'm here for my own curiosity. Otherwise you'd be in the interrogation room."

Yin let out a chuckle. "Fine. Take your shot."

"So you think Shepard's death was a—"

"Whitwell called it a 'waste.' Not the word I'd use. I say, 'damn stupid.' He could've done more than fight Saren's leftovers, yeah, that's a waste. But I lost a _friend_."

_I did, too,_ he almost said, but he had to save the personal cards. "That can't be why you turned on the Alliance."

"I didn't _turn on it_."

"You've stolen intel and tech from us."

"I prefer 'putting it to better use' over 'stealing.' It's not like the Alliance knows what the hell it's doing anymore."

So Whitwell and Yin were operating outside the Alliance to pursue something they couldn't while within it—or to do something that the Alliance couldn't. The batarians seemed the obvious target. The Alliance had beaten the Hegemony time and again, but it never moved to destroy it outright.

_"A lot of terrorists think they're helping,"_ Shepard once said, before he joined Cerberus.

_Now to act._ "I see." He brought up his omni-tool. The two cameras required three codes: one to access the system, two for each of the cameras. The cells worked the same way.

The mass effect field flickered and died. "Commander?" one of the agents asked. "What—"

A field of his own slammed both of them against the wall. Not looking at the unconscious bodies and ignoring the twist in his gut, Kaidan entered the cell and released Yin's shackles.

Yin shot him a suspicious glare. "The hell?"

"We only have a small window to work with. Security's light, but we'll still have to fight through Bau's mechs." He placed a spare pistol in her palm. "Do your people have a rendezvous point?"

The glare persisted for several seconds as Yin's eyes scanned him. Kaidan kept his expression as flat as possible, though he still felt his apprehension coloring it.

"Yeah," Yin said, standing. "Escape route?"

"Stay close."

* * *

><p>The run took them from narrow hallways to narrow alleys as a Tayseri Ward slum pressed in around them—as did the curious stares of its alien residents. Kaidan and Yin had long changed into nondescript civvies, but their movements still suggested trained soldiers, not the Citadel's lower class.<p>

Each of Yin's step seemed to carry purpose for her, though not to the point of being rigid. A mugger could expect a kick to the gut while they were mid-jump. Not a surprise, of course. Whitwell thought her an adequate replacement for Shepard. More than adequate if the former admiral let Yin in on her plans.

His earpiece crackled. _"Completed the sweep,"_ a salarian said._ "No signs. Will keep eyes on the Zakera B1 spaceport."_

_"Good. I want updates by the hour. Spectre Bau to Agent Baat, you may proceed."_

"Agent Baat" was a term mentioned in the data package, along with access codes to Bau's comm channel. _How much has he dug up on me_, Kaidan thought, noting the obvious reference.

"Everything all right?" Yin asked.

"Just checking the STG comm chatter. We're in the clear."

Yin stopped at the door to a warehouse and ran her fingers over the haptic console. Kaidan followed her into a darkened maze of stacked crates. Long ago a krogan had led him to a similar place.

"Now…" Yin said, turning around. The spare pistol rose. "Your turn to talk."

That krogan ended up a bullet-ridden corpse. Here violence wasn't an option. _Choose your words carefully._ "About why I broke you out."

"This whole thing was staged, wasn't it? Bau's desperate attempt to figure me out?"

Staged, but not desperate. Though Bau's data package contained only codes, not orders, its purpose was clear—even if the reasoning wasn't. Kaidan had a few small things in common with Yin, but he was no infiltrator. Or even a great liar. _Maybe it's _because_ I'm the unlikely spy._

"Well?" Yin asked.

The best lies had kernels of truth, the old adage said. "You're right. I was sent to spy on you, but hear me out."

She narrowed her eyes and advanced on him. "You have ten seconds."

"You lost a friend when the _Normandy_ went down, but I was there. I had to watch it happen. And then the Council… swept everything under the rug. Shepard sacrificed a lot of good men and women to save their lives. And look at how the Council repaid him."

Joker had made that point, shaking with an empty anger while clutching a half-empty beer. Kaidan remembered the SR-1 cap tossed in the trash, the dumpster that was Joker's apartment, the pain that he understood and the frustration he'd processed, and hoped that it clawed at the edges of his voice.

Maybe it clawed at Yin, too, when she lowered the gun. She glanced around the warehouse and nodded. Four armored and armed humans appeared from cloaks. Kaidan felt his shoulders tense.

"Good answer," Yin said. The others put away their rifles.

"I do want to know what you're doing. If it matters as much as you say it does, then I want to help, too."

"All right, then. Shuttle's this way. Stay close." As Yin flashed him a smile, conjured anger gave way to honest relief—if this worked out, the last bit of honesty he'd get to indulge in.

* * *

><p>Several relay hops and an FTL jump brought a space station orbiting a green gas giant into view. No lights ran along its shadowed length, nor did any heat register on the transport's sensors. Stolen tech, Kaidan surmised. On the off-chance someone passed by, they would've dismissed the station as derelict.<p>

"What is this place?"

"Caesar Station. Not the main base, if that's what you're thinking," Yin said from the copilot's chair. "Just one of many."

The transport slipped into a hangar at one of the station's ends. A soldier waited for them when they descended the boarding ramp. "You're late," he said.

Yin shrugged. "Brought a new recruit, one of Shepard's old squad. Is the boss taking visitors?"

"Not at the moment. You know how she is."

"Oh, well. There'll be enough time for introductions." She glanced at Kaidan. "Follow me."

Flickering lights cast Caesar's clean lines and undecorated metalwork in a certain half-shadow. Soldiers in black roamed the catwalks above, visible for a split-second, obscured the next. Kaidan looked out for logos, decals—something about who this station belonged to both then and now—but found nothing. At least Cerberus identified themselves, that fanged shape in the Nepheron base's office.

_Too new for formalities, _he hoped.

"Sorry about the sad state of the place," Yin said. "We have to be ready to evacuate on a moment's notice. You understand, right?"

_No defenses, then._ "I do. So, does this operation have a name?"

"Yeah, actually." Yin looked over her shoulder. "Whitwell will tell you when you meet her."


	8. Victor Shepard - Backwards

**Victor Shepard  
><strong>**Backwards**

Again the pixellated face smeared itself on several nearby monitors and screamed its nonsense, booming again through the facility's mess hall, over dead researchers and dead geth. Another cry, and the words—and the terror behind them—came through the distortion. _"Quiet please, make it stop."_

Shepard frowned, then looked behind him at a flight of stairs. "What was Project Overlord's purpose? AI technology? Anti-geth weaponry?"

"I'm not sure," Miranda said, climbing the last step. "The Illusive Man gave me the same briefing as you. Both your ideas seem likely."

"Maybe the other operative he sent knows something."

Miranda gave a faint scowl. "Perhaps."

_"Miranda will accompany you to Aite," _the Illusive Man had said. The two of them were to rendezvous with another Cerberus agent already on the ground._ "He tends to be somewhat abrasive, but he has a great deal in common with you." _This wasn't the first Cerberus mess the Illusive Man asked him to clean up, but it _was_ the first he took such a hands-on approach. What made Overlord so important, Shepard wondered.

Down a corridor and through a door, shredded and unmoving geth littered the next room. Save one, sparking and spasming while a kneeling man worked an omni-tool over its head. Shepard's approach drew the man's cold gaze. A blade sprung from his omni-tool, and he severed the cords behind the geth's neck. The geth twitched, then joined the rest in silence.

"You're the Illusive Man's agent?" Shepard asked, noting the orange fanged symbol on the man's black armor.

"His personal assassin," Miranda said. "This is Kai Leng."

"And you…" Leng's deep voice carried just over a whisper as he gestured towards Shepard. The cybernetic plating framing his dark eyes shifted with his smile. "… Must the boss's pet science project. I'd shake hands, but we have a mission."

_Can see why Miranda doesn't like him._ He could also see how Miranda lied about her briefing. "How much do you know about this project?"

"Before he dropped out of contact, the chief scientist told me that we're dealing with a rogue VI."

"And the geth?"

"It's controlling them somehow. The one I scanned had signs of tampering."

"I thought the geth were immune to long-term hacking."

Leng shrugged, then turned towards a staircase. "We'll just have to find out."

The favored operative, the elite problem solver, that and more came through in the smooth grace of Leng's movements. A Shepard fresh out of N-school had that easy, naive cockiness, too. _"He tends to be somewhat abrasive, but he has a great deal in common with you."_ That seemed more bad than good with each passing second.

"So," Shepard said, following Leng, "let me guess. Ex-Alliance?"

A chuckle came ahead of him. "Was it that hard to figure out? Yes. Former marine. Even paid the Villa a visit. Walked out with the logo and the stripe."

_N7._ That explained one of Shepard's hunches. "But you left."

"I'm not in your suicide zoo. Save the prying for them."

"And why aren't you, anyways?"

Miranda came up to Shepard's side. "Our mission is taking up a considerable amount of the Illusive Man's resources. He wants to keep a few in reserve."

Yet the Illusive Man sent Leng here, his own ex-N7, to work with Shepard. Alongside Miranda, two of Cerberus's most loyal agents were assigned to someone who couldn't say the same. _One Cerberus plot, and I'm in the dark. My entire mission exactly._

Monitors lit up with green pixels, and the intercom loosed the tormented cry once more. _"Quiet please, make it stop."_ Shepard glanced at Leng, then Miranda, before continuing on.

* * *

><p>Three research stations overrun with hacked mechs and kilometers of travel brought the three of them to the VI's controls. Just a console awaited them. Not even a special interface. Shepard glanced at Miranda and Leng, then placed his fingers on the haptic keys.<p>

His omni-tool appeared, not of his own doing. The room, the air, everything _pulsed._ Green fire—no, pixels—erupted from the console and his omni-tool. Shepard tried lifting his hand, but something, some dull force, some presence, seized every muscle.

_"Quiet please."_ The voice came from no speakers or intercoms, but from his own head, like a thought that drowned out every other with its echoing pain. _"Make it stop."_

The VI was all Shepard could muster before his arm obeyed some impulse. His legs followed suit, turning him around and shuffling forward, one after the other. Miranda's mouth moved, as did Leng's. Nothing came out that he could hear. His mouth did nothing that he could respond with.

The door shut behind him once he was out of the room. Then the vice grip lifted, and the floor rushed to meet him.

He caught himself on his elbows and pushed up onto his hands. Glowing green lines ran along the floor, along the walls and ceiling, pointing towards a door at the end of the hallway.

_No other way._ Shepard followed.

In the next room, a curving corridor with a view of a large central chamber, the green lines stopped and a orange pixellated haze began. Holographic phantoms, all wearing Cerberus uniforms, walked up and down. Some seemed locked in conversation, others alone. Shepard unclipped his pistol and proceeded.

He'd seen some of these faces before, on the decaying corpses around the research stations. Was the VI showing him the past?

He had his answer when Doctor Archer's image moved past him. "The square root to nine-hundred-six-point-oh-one." Archer said, the voice again in Shepard's mind.

"Equals thirty-point-one." A bald young man appeared at Archer's side.

For a moment, Archer was in the corner of Shepard's eye, not ahead of him, before both the doctor and the young man fizzled out. Shepard frowned. _His memories._

More doors led to more rooms and more memories: David interacting with a geth unit, Archer conferring with the Illusive Man, Archer's desperate journal entries. The VI's memories led him to a conference room. Doctor Archer appeared once more before a QEC device.

"Initial link-ups were successful, but subsequent attempts placed increasing strain on David's mind." Archer tapped a foot as he looked downward. "I fear he's no longer willing to continue the project."

"Project Overlord is important to my long-term goals," the Illusive Man's voice said, "You haven't forgotten the stakes, have you?"

"I haven't."

"Good to hear. I trust you'll do what's needed."

"What's needed" echoed, blared in Shepard's head, taking on a hundred different distortions with every repetition. A barrage of other words followed. For flickers of moments, cold metal seemed to lock around his wrists and angles as Doctor Archer's unfeeling stare bore down upon him.

_"We're ready. Open a connection to the geth network."_

_"David, no! Tell the geth to stand down."_

_"Quiet please, make it stop."_

And then it lifted. The lines and the haze remained, but Shepard was alone in the dead silence of the conference room. Archer told him that David volunteered for Project Overlord. Another lie. _Is why they're here?_ Did Miranda and Leng know the truth the whole time? Did the Illusive Man send Leng so one ex-N7 could keep another in check? Of course he would, after Binthu and Chasca and all the others.

Grateful for the locked door, Shepard continued on. He spotted an elevator down and made for it.

A sharp force—a real one—to his head sent him reeling forward. Shepard caught himself, turned around and pointed his pistol.

Too slow. This time it struck him sideways. The gun clattered on the floor while his back hit a wall.

"Whatever you think you're doing," Kai Leng said, omni-blade pressed against Shepard's chest, "the answer is 'no.'"

Shepard kicked out, broke free as Leng staggered. Three punches. Leng weaved around them, but a fourth caught him across the chin.

"So what's _your_ mission?" Shepard asked, backing off. "Keep me from doing something your boss might disagree with?"

Leng grinned. "Well, the Illusive Man didn't pick an idiot to fight the Collectors."

Shepard sidestepped a kick, dodged a swipe, replied with testing blows that created a fair distance. _He's not here to kill me, just incapacitate me._ "Cerberus doesn't want David Archer freed. They need their perfect test subject for Overlord. Not happening."

"That's just the thing," Leng said. "You and your overinflated sense of importance. On your fancy ship_,_ our boss lets you think you're in charge. He tells his people to follow your orders while he moves you square by square like a pawn. Here? You're just a gun pointed at a problem." Leng aimed his omni-tool. "Here, Cerberus doesn't require you to _think._"

Shepard rolled away from the incinerating attack. Glass shattered behind him. "We're done here."

"Our boss—"

Shepard pounced. His forked omni-blade bit into Leng's side. "Will have to deal with it."

A blow to the face. Shepard stumbled. Leng, scowling and clutching the stab wound, lobbed a grenade out the broken window. The central chamber came alight with green and the sounds of systems firing up. And the VI _roared._

David and Doctor Archer's ghosts. Flashes of dead researchers. _"The square root to nine-hundred-six-point-oh-one equals thirty-point-one." "No longer willing to continue." "Do what's needed." "Tell the geth to stand down!"_

_"Quiet please, make it stop."_

Amidst the hellish clamor inside Shepard's head, two hands grabbed his shoulders. A knee slammed into his gut. His swimming vision shifted. Cold metal struck his face.

"Call it cheap," Leng said, his blurry figure standing over him. "A shot is a shot. Shame. Would've liked to take you on at your best. But we make do, right?"

Footsteps, then the sliding metal of a closing door.

A near-eternity seemed to pass before the door Shepard _could_ see opened.

"Commander." Miranda rushed towards him and knelt, omni-tool opened. "Dammit. Can you walk, Shepard?"

Despite what felt like heavy weights on his arms, Shepard pushed himself up to sit. Miranda helped him lean back against a wall. "Yeah. Don't know how good…" Miranda's face went out of focus, and Shepard head refused to keep level. He grunted. "Stop him" was what could manage. If she listened, the only thing he needed to.

_If. _Miranda stood and stared down at him for a long few seconds. "I'm sorry."


	9. Jeff Moreau - One of a Few

**Jeff Moreau  
><strong>**One of a Few**

Joker saw this chain unfold before, the ominous news heralding Shepard's less-than-triumphant return to the ship. The _Normandy_ was locked down, the SR-1's VI said. But where that time came as a surprise, the Aite mystery mission got Joker's gut twisted the whole time.

Confidential mission details were one thing-when they were for the Alliance. Cerberus? Another thing entirely. But then came a hack attempt that even EDI barely held off. And the puncher: when comms reconnected to the ground team, Miranda, not Shepard, made the call.

_"Moreau, send the shuttle in on my coordinates. I need Doctor Chakwas ready for two patients."_

The last time, Shepard stepped through the SR-1's airlock with angry purpose in his step and pure ice in his voice. This time, he went straight to the med bay. The crew's mutterings-"I heard he isn't in good shape," "stay away from Lawson"-left Joker hanging on Chakwas's every work from Aite's orbit to the fuel depot.

So, hours later, Joker let out the longest breath when the med bay door opened and Chakwas ushered him inside.

"The VI hybrid's attack was centered on your omni-tool." Miranda stood between Shepard's bed and the next. "From there, it was able to access your cerebral implants."

Shepard, bruised and bandaged, focused his gaze on the ceiling. "Damage?"

"You suffered only minor injuries, fortunately," Chakwas said, looking at a datapad. "This VI attack seemed to sharpen them. Still, I'd suggest staying aboard the _Normandy_ for the time being. Imagined or not, this mission did a number on you."

"Understood." Shepard sighed. "What about David Archer?"

Miranda stepped aside and gestured behind her. A pale, bald kid, hooked up to serious equipment, slept on a far bed. "He's here?"

That got her Shepard's attention.

"I shut down the VI, disabled Kai Leng, and had David brought aboard. Doctor Archer had his objections. I ignored them."

"I... didn't expect that."

"I was following orders."

"So was Leng. I figured the Illusive Man sent you and Leng for a specific reason, but I want to hear the truth from you."

"You figured correctly. We were supposed to ensure that David remained a subject for Project Overlord, either by convincing you or denying you a say. Both non-violently, I should add." A bitter smile crept across Miranda's face. "It seems both of us were insubordinate."

_What the hell happened down there,_ Joker thought. The conversation suggested an even more unusual mission than he suspected.

"Why?" Shepard asked.

Miranda pursed her lips. Seconds passed before she said, "Leng? Only he knows. _I_ prioritized our overall needs."

_Vague and corporate._

"Now," Miranda said, "with your leave, I'll report to the Illusive Man. He should be _thrilled_ with the results of this mission."

Shepard nodded once.

When the door hissed closed behind her, Joker stepped forward. "Hey, you all right?"

Shepard's expression softened. "Took a few bad hits from the Illusive Man's pet assassin, but I'll be fine. The mission was successful—never mind what Cerberus thinks."

"Cerberus won't have a choice but to accept the results," Chakwas said. "We're too valuable to them."

"Yeah." Shepard looked down. "Though I get the feeling this won't be the last time we disagree."

"Whatever happens, this is your crew. Not the Illusive Man's."

Joker glanced at Chakwas, then Shepard. "What she said."

"Though on the topic of disagreements..." Chakwas went to check on David Archer. "We'll need to get him somewhere safe. I suggest Grissom Academy. He'll be among peers there, and I can pull a few favors to streamline the acceptance process."

"Joker?"

"I'll set course after we're resupplied."

Shepard nodded. "Good."

"And as for you, Commander," Chakwas said, "I think I can clear you to resume your duties. I'd appreciate extra scans of your implants, to be on the safe side."

"Done."

Shepard slid off the bed with more caution than Joker expected. He looked at Chakwas and Joker, said "As you were," then left.

Chakwas had her gaze on the closing door. She broke the seconds' silence as she returned to her desk. "You realize he was lying?"

"Huh?"

"I've served with enough officers. I know when they say things just to maintain morale. I was hoping he'd be less guarded with us."

The last time, Shepard used that level-headed and measured voice that COs used after things went south. But the hint of exhaustion came a little stronger here.

Joker took a step towards the exit. "I'll talk to him when I get the chance."

* * *

><p>He'd done this before, staring at the captain's cabin door and wondering if it was wise to buzz. The last time, however, Shepard was still with the Alliance. He hadn't died, he hadn't been roped into working with terrorists. <em>"There's no way they spend this much money just to screw us over"<em> was another lie.

Joker flexed his fingers. Last time he brought a bottle of booze, too.

The door control panel hovered right in front of his face. Better him than EDI announcing his presence, he supposed. With a deep breath he reached forward and hit a button. "Hey, Commander. You…"

He hadn't thought that sentence through, but Shepard mercifully opened the door before he needed to finish it. Shepard himself sat at his desk, fingers darting over haptic keys. Half a dozen datapads were stacked up next to the computer. _Ever the workaholic,_ Joker thought.

"You all right?" Joker asked.

Lines of text grew left to right on the computer screen. "Do you want the on-record or off-record answer?"

"Think you know the answer to that."

With a slow shove Shepard pushed himself away from his desk. "I'm not really a Commander anymore. I'm a Spectre in name only at best. And Cerberus keeps telling me that they can help me stop the Reapers. That they're the only ones who can. You'd think the Illusive Man would avoid obvious manipulation, but here I am, on his ship, leading his people, doing his dirty work. It's working. I can feel the damn strings, but it's _working_.

"Project Overlord was supposed to create some human-VI hybrid that could command the geth. David Archer was the unwilling human half, probably the reason the whole thing went berserk. So Cerberus needed me to clean up their mess, but not solve it. They just wanted my gun in it, not my head."

Shepard stood up and approached the set of steps down. "But… that's not the whole problem. Kai Leng and Miranda were supposed to convince me that David needed to stay with the project. The Illusive Man thought I could be persuaded like that." Back turned, Shepard glanced over his shoulder. "What if he's right?"

"What?"

"You heard me."

"No. No way. Why would you even think that?"

"Two years ago, I wouldn't have considered it. Nothing they said would've convinced me."

"And it'd be the same thing now. Hell, even Cerberus wanted you back the way you were."

"Just listen to me. I was losing air from suit breaches." Shepard's voice turned to half-hurried mutterings as he placed his hand above the light switch. "My suit was being opened up to space while I was falling into a planet's atmosphere, and my body ended up a charred hunk of meat. That was it. The end. Dead." He raised his head. "A body is one thing. Bones, muscles, skin, those can be rebuilt, I get that. That's not the problem. What I don't believe is that Cerberus can put a _person_ back together."

_Shinier, stronger, but still just a copy._

"I _died, _Joker."

_There it is. _Joker wanted to say something, but his voice caught in his throat. And what could he say? That Shepard would find a way out of the mess that Joker's own stupidity had landed him in?

"I keep checking everything. 'Would I have done this two years ago?' 'Would I have said this?' "Would I have thought this?' I guess there's my answer."

Shepard's hand slid downward on the wall. If Joker was stupid or bold or both he would've put his on it. If he was better at people he would've said something helpful. _Just yell at me, dammit. Tell me that it's my fault you're stuck here. Don't just stand there and crumble._

_Let me know I can stop pining like an idiot_, too, but a stupid crush was the least important thing here.

Shepard turned around at last. "How did you deal with just being a shuttle pilot?"

"You're asking about _that_?"

"I know I might be grasping at straws, but just… just play along."

_And you're asking_ me_ for advice. Great._ "Dunno. I was frustrated. Thought the brass was just shoving me aside. For a while I thought I'd be stuck there forever."

"What changed?"

Joker shrugged. "Decided I'd get myself out. Saw an opportunity."

Shepard averted his gaze, then nodded at him. Somehow he saw something in Joker's not-so-shining moment involving biotiball cards and alcohol. "Thanks," he said. Some semblance of the commander had returned to his expression. "And… I'm sorry. I shouldn't have dropped all that on you."

"Friends let each other vent." _Even if they can't do shit about it. _"'Sides, you… probably needed to get that off your chest."

"Yeah."

So Shepard returned to his desk. "By the way," he said, opening his computer, "I got a message from Admiral Hackett. He wants me to go to Alchera, put a monument at the SR-1's wreckage. Do you want to come along?"

"This an offer to all the old crew? Chakwas, Garrus, Tali?"

"I was planning on keeping it just us, but if you want them along, we can do that, too."

Five would make for much less awkwardness than two, given the location. But on the other hand, given the location… "Wait, what about you? You're okay with this?" He tried imagining it, the bits and pieces of his beautiful ship scattered about a frozen wasteland. If that image sent him a chill, how much more for Shepard?

"I'm not sure, but I don't think there will ever be a good time for it."

"Yeah. Guess not." Dulled silver, charred at the edges, the darkened shell of the old cockpit… Where their friendship began and ended, Joker used to think, before the Lazarus Project. He shook those notions and pictures from his mind and looked back at Shepard. "Just us is fine, by the way."


	10. Miranda Lawson - Defined

**Miranda Lawson  
><strong>**Defined**

"Now, if I have your permission to leave, I'll report to the Illusive Man. He should be _thrilled_ with the results of our mission."

With Shepard's short nod, Miranda took one more glance around the medbay—the Commander's tired surprise, Moreau's confusion, Chakwas's calm composure, and David Archer's peaceful sleep—and left.

_Unbelievable_. Kai Leng owed everything to the Illusive Man, but when it came to Shepard he seemed all too eager to disregard his orders. Shepard inspired something. Jealousy, perhaps—given the snide remarks and the superiority complex, Leng seemed the petty type.

But what about her insubordination, Miranda wondered as she stepped into the elevator, and again as the conference room's QEC field rose around her.

There were no sips of a drink or puffs of a cigarette. Between the two of them the Illusive Man had long moved past theatrics. "Miranda. I understand you had an unfortunate situation concerning Overlord. I had a feeling Leng might pounce on any sign of weakness from Shepard, but that's why I had you there. You were supposed to keep him in check."

"You read Leng's report," Miranda said. "You have the specifics of what happened."

"Yes. Leng was able to neutralize you long enough to deal the damage he did. But that should've been the end of it. We would've had an acceptable outcome if you remained out of the picture until Leng secured David Archer. Instead, you ruined the entire project. I expected this from Jacob, not from you."

Miranda Lawson folded her arms. "I was following orders. _Your_ orders. I remember you specifically stating that Shepard was in charge on this mission."

"I don't need to discuss the command dynamic on the SR-2," he said, tapping his cigarette against the tip of an armrest. "Nor do I need to remind you that this is a Cerberus mission."

"If this mission is to succeed, we need Shepard to be able to trust his crew. I wouldn't still be his XO if I didn't stop Leng."

_"Stop him,"_ Shepard had choked out. So she followed Leng, feigned complicity. Dozens upon dozens of pistol slugs were needed to break through the VI hybrid's defenses. Only one omni-tool shock was needed to leave Leng an unconscious heap on the floor.

_"Moreau,"_ she said over comms, _"send the shuttle in on my coordinates. I need Chakwas ready for two patients."_

"So I can trust that your insubordination wasn't out of some sudden moral urge," the Illusive Man said.

"I heard enough about Overlord's merits from Doctor Archer."

* * *

><p>Miranda, sixteen years old, kept her posture rigid and her face blank under her father's stare. "I heard enough from Mitsuda."<p>

Henry Lawson's scowl deepened. "Mitsuda has been the manager of the Sydney offices for almost eight years. One day, he might answer to you, but until then you'd do well to listen to him. You don't learn to run a company by staring down from the top. You start from the bottom."

"He can't decide if I'm a child or I'm his boss."

"That's good. You command respect, and once you're older the former won't be an issue."

Miranda's fist tightened, hidden in her chair. _I command respect because of you._

"The point remains, however," her father said. "Lawson Pharmaceuticals has a reputation for treating its employees like family. Tomorrow you'll return to the Sydney offices, you'll observe how Mitsuda runs the place, and you'll listen to his every word. When you return on Friday, you'll report everything to me. Understood?"

Off to the side, a new window appeared over her father's desk. "Understood."

"Dismissed, then."

The walk back to her room was a short one. She changed out of her business attire, turned off the lights, and crawled into bed. Funny, Miranda noted, gazing at the closet, then the dresser, then the desk. Her bedroom had been the closest thing to a sanctuary in the Lawson mansion, yet she never gave its details so much as a second thought. Did her father? When she was a mere thought, did he ever look at the room and wonder what kind of child he'd have? Did it excite him, not just for the dynasty, but for the daughter?

Miranda pulled the sheets over herself. Useless questions, all of them. What mattered was the satisfaction in letting Henry Lawson think he'd won. Because the next day, she left no note—not on the neatly made bed and not on the still-organized desk. Unnecessary theatrics only complicated a simple but elegant plan.

By the late afternoon she was watching Sydney's skyscrapers and Sol's sunbeams pass by from the passenger seat of Niket's car. Skycars formed speckled squares above, but she appreciated the bumps and shakes of tires on the road.

"I owe you for this," Miranda said.

"Relax."

"My father's people must be looking for me right now—along with the police, I imagine. Relaxing is a bit difficult right now."

"You're sure you don't stay at my place for the night? My family wouldn't have a problem with it."

"They wouldn't have a problem with the runaway daughter of a powerful CEO?"

"They won't have a problem with my best friend."

That brought a faint smile to her lips. The idea didn't seem too terrible, an actual family living in an actual home, smiles and welcomes and all. Not just watching, too—she'd be at the dining table or on the couch. _"The food is delicious."_ _"How was your day?"_ Utterly trivial talk, under a different light, took on more meaning than any number of back-and-forths with Henry Lawson.

"They won't be thinking that when there's knocking on the door. At best that would just put me back at square one."

"And at worst?"

She cut that fantasy off just at the darker turn. "People getting hurt."

"So where _are_ you going?"

_One of my father's contacts. Her people will protect me if I join their organization. _The "one" was on the tip of her tongue for a split-second. "I can't tell you. I'm sorry."

"That doesn't make me feel any better just leaving you."

"Trust me."

"I…" Niket sighed. "Yeah. Okay. King and York, right?"

The last several minutes drained by, bringing them to the center of Old Downtown Sydney. Shoppers and diners and tourists roamed about—potential eyes for her father, wittingly or no, but "hiding in plain sight" seemed a strong suggestion. _Mind games within mind games._ When the car pulled over, she glanced back at Niket and pulled a hood on. "So this is it."

A young girl pulled at her father's arm as she pointed at a colorful storefront. Miranda opened the door and stepped out.

"You'll keep in touch?" Niket asked.

Miranda couldn't help but nod. "Promise. And… thank you."

"Any time."

She closed the door and turned around, not watching Niket drive away. _I shouldn't have involved him at all._ Even a simple ride posed unnecessary risks, and Niket and his family would be the first place her father looked regardless. If Niket knew nothing… _Too late for that now._ Perhaps Miranda had to trust _him_, too.

Down the street and through a large door, the hotel lobby sprawled out like a long, lazy cat. Tourists and business people sat on an excessive number of velvet-covered sofas, staring at omni-tools or holographic advertisements, sipping on cocktails from the bar. Hiding in plain sight: Henry Lawson, and his shadow, would've deemed it all very gaudy.

Miranda took off her hood and approached the front desk. "I'm looking for Miss Rolleston."

The receptionist gave her an odd stare, then tapped a few haptic keys. A call and a "Yes, Miss Rolleston" later, he looked back at Miranda and gestured to the door behind him. "Elevator at the end of the hallway. Second basement level, then third door on your right. Welcome to The Grace, Miss Leitner."

"Thank you."

She followed the directions to a small office that matched the lobby in its ostentatiousness. The elegant woman behind the desk offered her a polite business smile. "You're here earlier than expected."

Miranda shut the door. "I like being efficient."

"Much like your father." Miss Rolleston poured a glass of water, then gestured to the seat across from her. "Were you followed?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"Good. As you can imagine, your father has the police and his household out and about looking for you. Thankfully, there's a great deal of ground to cover between his mansion and Sydney, and my people were able to misdirect him. Most of the Sydney police are conducting a half-hearted search in Sutherland Shire. Mister Lawson believes you're actually in Melbourne."

"You went through all that effort?"

"My boss has a keen interest in recruiting you. He believes you'll make a fine addition to the organization, so much that he's willing to lose Lawson Pharmaceuticals in exchange."

"He told you that?"

"Indirectly. I've never actually spoken to him, but word comes down the chain of command." Rolleston opened up a haptic window. "Now. Tomorrow I'll have one of my people take you to the spaceport. You'll be boarding a Cord-Hislop corporate shuttle that will take you to the Citadel. There, you'll meet Infante, and he'll arrange for proper introductions. You've never left Earth, have you?"

Her father's business trips took her all over the planet, but not off it. "No."

Rolleston smiled. "Fitting that Cerberus shows you the rest of the galaxy, then."

* * *

><p>The Illusive Man laced his fingers together. "It's not wise making Kai Leng's hit list, but I can restrain him." <em>For now<em> went unsaid, or perhaps _as long as you remain in line._ "Your mission is too important for little rivalries to get in the way. But let me make myself clear, Lawson. I don't want this happening again."

Posture rigid and face blank, Miranda nodded. "Noted."

"I'll remember that choice of words."

The Illusive Man cut the connection, and the QEC field retreated into the conference room floor. Miranda turned and stepped through the door.

Jacob leaned on a bulkhead, arms crossed. "How'd it go?"

_Always sticking your nose somewhere, _Miranda thought. "When it comes to our boss, I can handle myself."

"Figured that. I don't get how you stand toe-to-toe with him, but…" Jacob shrugged and headed for the armory. "Guess it's just one of the things you do."

"You can say that," Miranda said, following.

Other operatives, after learning about her past, tried making the old "trading father figures" comparison. She wasted no time shooting that down. Her younger self made a business deal with the Illusive Man. She had very little use for father figures, and Henry Lawson was to thank for that—sincerely.

Jacob leaned back on a workbench. "I gotta say, though. You did the right thing on Aite."

Miranda pursed her lips, then looked up. "EDI, Operator override. Disable audio recording in the armory."

"Override acknowledged, Operator Lawson."

Pacing around, she returned her attention to Jacob. "Sometimes I wonder."

The experiments on husks, rachni, and Thorian creepers were intended to produce shock troops, she told Shepard. He didn't take well to the notion of "necessary sacrifices." But when she saw David Archer crucified to a massive apparatus, withered from malnutrition and crying for help… Miranda remembered a wailing baby in a cradle as she snuck in through the bedroom window. That, more than Shepard's orders or even her own pragmatism, decided her choice.

"No question about it. I was surprised when I heard what you did, but I'm glad that crazy experiment's shut down."

Joining Cerberus was a business transaction, but she spent almost half her life building upon it. Now a "moral impulse" tore at its foundations. Miranda looked at Jacob and said, "I appreciate the vote of confidence."


End file.
